


Techno

by pernedthegyre



Category: Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer
Genre: AU, Character Development, Eventual Romance, F/M, Foaly has mad hacking skills, Holly hates Artemis until she doesn't, I don't know, Interspecies Relationship(s), Opal is annoying, Original Character(s), Technology War, hartemis, not finished writing, prisoner
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-04-10 11:04:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4389359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pernedthegyre/pseuds/pernedthegyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>War has come between the humans and the fairies. Artemis never kidnaps Holly, and at the tender age of fifteen is working for the government, keeping the fairy race away from humanity. Yet, fate still dictates a certain chance meeting. AU Hartemis</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The moon was high that night, full and ripe with the promise of coming days. Or at least, the coming days used to be filled with promise, back in another lifetime which Artemis could hardly remember. These days, the rising of the sun only seemed to bring more news of kidnapped people and foiled attempts at sabotaging the greater workings of humanity. Artemis would know; he was, after all, the lead technician currently engaged in a silent warfare against the fairy race. He was most certainly the brightest of the UK’s team of representatives, even at a mere fifteen years old. Only Minerva was anywhere near his range of abilities, a sweet twelve year old with blond ringlets, a fascination with ponies, and the ability to strip a computer down to its components in less than twenty-five seconds.

Three years ago, Artemis had been in the midst of investigating a series of phenomena that he believed would lead to the discovery of a subterranean people. They were most commonly known as fairies, or the Fair Folk around his neck of the woods in fair Ireland. He was doing his research and believed that there were more subtypes to this general classification, but at that point he was running up against some solid evidence that pointed to the validation of his hypothesis. Translated from Artemis-speak, he was close to a breakthrough that would rock most of the sentient world. He’d had a plan in the back of his mind about what he might do with this capital information, something still in the vague formation process that had involved kidnapping and gold. Given more time, he would surely have wrecked his own personal form of catastrophe upon these small, subterranean dwellers. That is, of Giovanni Zito had not chanced upon a stray radio transmission coming from one of their vessels as it passed under his summer home in Nice. This freak accident would probably have been contained (after all, Artemis had to give these people credit for hiding from hi- the human race for so long) if Giovanni, fearing alien attack, hadn’t blabbed the information to every media center he could contact in short notice. And considering the size of his financial assets, short notice meant a lot of media. Artemis had quietly fumed in his room in Fowl Manor while the laughingstock story was broadcasted over every news channel the television had to offer. He knew that while the majority of the human race might see this as a hoax, there were too many people currently informed, and the hard evidence was too irrefutable for someone not to realize and act. His personal project was no more than a smoldering pile of ruin and ashes in a matter of minutes.

From there, six months after ten separate well-known (and more importantly, well-liked) scientists had shared their flawless proof with the general public, a message was sent from underground to the nearest Peace Conference at Geneva, the largest in the past decade. An audio transmission came to the leaders from the fairies, explaining their underground world of life and extending a general hand of peace and friendship. After the dust had settled, five delegates had shouted vague threats towards their previously undiscovered neighbors (Artemis fumed a little more), three had passed out in dead faints, and six were ready to start the modern version of the Crusades. Artemis sighed and shook his head. Sometimes his species disappointed him immensely. They should have at least pretended to be friendly so they could extort the faeries later.

Thus the largest silent war since the Cold War between Russia and The United States began. The events of the peace conference were quietly shushed, as were the afore-mentioned scientists. Then, every nation had convened and founded a task force with a two-fold goal; to keep these Fair Folk from interfering with the affairs of the human race and to find a way to eliminate those insidious pests in one fell swoop. Artemis was coerced into a tech position on the team with an exorbitant fee and the promise of a challenge unlike any he had ever previously experienced. These last two years had been spent arming the whole of the important parts of the internet with every firewall he could think of, only to discover an almost equal adversary in the presence the team had quietly dubbed The HACKer. It seemed no matter how many firewalls he threw up, no matter how difficult the code, all of his defenses seemed to be breached in a matter of minutes. It was the most fun Artemis had had since his fourth birthday when he had first broken into the inter-web security of the Swiss Bank. His father had been so proud.

At least, that’s what he used to think.

Now, at the older and more mature age of fifteen, he realized the long days and longer nights were beginning to take their toll on him. Too many times he had been woken in the middle of the night, barely in adequate dress, and had to put his pants on as he ran down the hallway to fend off the latest cyber attack. After a month away from his four poster bed, Artemis had broken down to the point where he had asked the tech team to more their base to his manor. While he had been, at first, both opposed and uncomfortable with the idea of anyone but Butler, Juliet, his mother, and himself living in the house for an extended period of time, he found that he had gradually adjusted to the presence of other human beings. Butler said his team was having a softening effect on him. Artemis, in his own polite way, had told him to shut up.

It was his team, seeing as how it was his house they were residing in and he was the smartest of the bunch, even if only just in some cases. There was Minerva, who was now thirteen (as of last week) and liked to text on her cell phone one-handed while placing an interlocking nexus defense over the hard-drive of the president of the United States. She was starting to mature into a young woman, and Artemis was dreading having to deal with the pubescent tantrums of a teenage girl that were inevitably going to ensue. While undeniably brilliant, Minerva did not have as close a reign over her emotional state as Artemis did. Zepino, or "Zippy" Briarfir, their hardware and malware tech, was a twenty-six year old grad student from Great Brittan who liked to hack Air Bases and pretend to fire missiles in his spare time. He could both stop a virus in its tracks and make a basic workable hard drive in under two minutes. He claimed, however, that he had been hung-over that day and therefore could do it faster. Argus Brittle, otherwise known as Spry, was a grizzled, wizened old man who used to be a low-time fencer of valuable artifacts over the internet, working out of a grubby café down in Dublin. However, the police had tracked him down and offered him this as a way of erasing his debt to society. He and Artemis played this little game where Spry tried to steal things and Artemis stopped him and then threatened him bodily harm in the most charming, pleasant voice he could muster. They would always walk away from such an encounter mutually satisfied. And finally, there was Yuki Arisawa from Tokyo, Japan. She was twenty-one, spoke English with a flawless accent, and could speak twenty-nine other languages besides. Not only was she an impressive linguist, but she also had nearly as many degrees as Artemis, could write programs that made code look like flawless Russian, and was stunningly beautiful to boot. She made up for this with an icy personality and a lack of social grace that, again, rivaled Artemis's own. Zippy spent almost all of his time trying to 'pick her up', as Juliet had said. Doubtless these tactics would get him anything in the future other than the verbal equivalent to an icicle between the eyes.

Before this motley group had moved into his house, Artemis had had a personality that bordered on sociopathic, next to no friends (none if you didn't count Juliet and Butler), and a general disdain for humanity in general. Now, he had sociopathic tendencies but slightly more social skills, a slight disdain for his team members, and a more marked disdain for the rest of humanity. Butler called it making friends. Artemis just thought he was going soft.

Not only were the days intellectually challenging, they were also having to guard themselves at every turn now. It had been a year into their little venture when Zippy had accidentally put his elbow on the freeze frame button on the security panel while trying to 'sweet-talk' Yuki (honestly, who came up with these absurd phrases?), and had captured the image of five diminutive figures creeping up the front drive. Artemis had activated the lawn security system immediately, and the next five minutes were spent frantically jury-rigging a filter of sorts that would allow Butler to go out there and take care of the problem. Seven minutes later, Butler had walked out the front door. Catching sight of his massive figure, the figures in black had all extended wings from their backs and disappeared into the heavens. Dinner that night had been filled with loud debate and excited conversation. They had done it; captured the first visual proof that these creatures they had been supposedly fighting for the past year actually existed. Reluctantly, they had sent the information they had gathered back to the group headquarters and had spent the rest of the night analyzing what they had seen, forming questions and postulating theories. They had refused all attempts of outside interference (at this point, they had begun to think of themselves as a single entity), but were no longer allowed to leave the house without armed guards outfitted with the new filters they had designed (they had given the patent to Artemis because, after all, it was his house) and at least one Butler. Ever since that first time, more attempts had been made to enter Fowl Mansion, but Butler and the new defense system had been able to rebuff them. They all wondered whether the small intruders were there for information gathering or for a darker, more sinister purpose. They were the center of all the tech personnel for the resistance of the human race. Butler had taken to sleeping outside the door of his room in case of intruders.

So here he sat on the edge of his bed, staring up at the moon and wondering when he had turned so maudlin. He slept in slacks and a white button down shirt now after the time where Yuki had burst into his room at two o'clock at night to inform him there was a serious breach of the West Coast server that needed to be addressed immediately. Totally oblivious to Artemis's total mortification at being caught wearing only his red Armani boxers. He hadn't been able to look her in the eye for weeks. She had been completely oblivious to this too. Thank god for Yuki's inability to read the finer points of human emotion.

He was interrupted from his pointless musings by a sound on his balcony, right outside his glass double doors. Train of thought broken, curiosity aroused, he rose from his bed as silently and as gracefully as he could possibly manage. Usually this was, well, not very, but he managed to not trip over his own feet on his way to the glass doors. Gently, he eased the door handle down and pushed out, letting the warm night air suffuse his room. He should not be doing this. He should be calling Butler right now, but his abundant curiosity won out over his need for protection and fear of embarrassment. It might be nothing, after all.

Might be nothing, except for the little rivulets of blood that were dripping onto the balcony from seemingly empty air.

"Fascinating," Artemis breathed without thought, and was startled in turn by the sound of surprised movement. He fervently wished he had not left his filtered glasses on his bedside table. "Wait," he called in a hushed voice, and the sound of movement stopped. He had not expected that to actually work, but he was glad he had tried regardless. "Please, I believe you are injured and are dripping blood on my perfectly good banister. Why don't you come inside so I, well not me but Butler, can tend to your injuries?" He tried to keep his voice low and soothing, like with a wild animal. Good fairy. Niiiiccee fairy. Just come a little close my dear, said the spider to the fly. Instead of being soothed, however, the owner of the blood currently trailing its way through the patio seemed to have been spooked even more. Artemis heard some clearly agitated movements and was frightened he had scared the creature off for good. However, to his eternal amazement, a solid figure shimmered into view like someone stepping out of a heat mirage or a pool of deep water.

The figure that appeared was dressed in a matte black jumpsuit, with gloved hands and black combat boots on her feet. A pair of shiny double wings, made of an unusual type of polymer from the looks of it, was strapped to her back with some sort of rigging harness. The only thing visible was her face. In the moonlight, the creature looked undeniably female. Her skin was the color of mocha, a light creamy brown with a complexion that every woman and most men on the planet would die for. Her face was heart shaped, high cheekbones melting into the angles of her face, giving an otherworldly appearance to her otherwise normal features. Her lips were perfect bows, her eyes delightfully angular and beautifully hazel. Blazing auburn hair, cropped short but still quite feminine, fell wildly about her face, and when she tilted her head and narrowed her eye at him he saw the tip of a single pointed ear rising out of the fiery tide. But her cheeks had an unnatural pallor, and one slim hand covered a jagged gash in the suit that ran around her rib cage and down the front of her stomach. A streak of blood marred her otherwise flawless face.

"Stay back human. You don't know what you're dealing with," said the fairy, strong, free, head raised proudly in defiance despite the fact that her body trembled and she was bleeding out on his balcony floor.

"Beautiful," said Artemis softly, seeming as if he was in a trance. She was defiance. She was perfection. She was a paragon a grace, of otherworldly beauty. She was…not human. "Beautiful," he said, slightly louder, as he took one step forward as if walking in a dream and held out his hand.

Then everything happened at once; Butler slammed into the room, gun drawn and roaring, Artemis jerked his head and blinked rapidly as if coming back to himself, and the fairy's eyes rolled backwards as she passed out, falling gracelessly from the rail to the hard ground below.


	2. Chapter 2

To Artemis, as the fairy tipped backwards everything seemed to slow, the world crawling by at the speed of molasses until he could see every strand of glinting auburn hair, every fleck of blood rising up in a disturbed spray of ruby red. Head tilted, he caught a last glimpse of the creature’s widened hazel eyes, those perfect cupid lips ajar in an expression of shock as gravity’s inevitability brought her back and down. In the moment everything was silent; Butler’s loud approach nothing but a dim whisper through a curtain of water. It was the two of them together, trapped in a bubble of halted time.

Little did he know how ironic this thought would later prove to be. 

Then, as suddenly as it had began, the moment broke into shards of alarmed shouting and the bone chilling sound of a small body dropping away into space. Artemis stood there, panting for air as if he had just run a race, his arm still outstretched in a now futile gesture of entreatment. In the next breath, Butler was there at his side, his hulking bulk shadowing out the moon as his drawn Sig Sauer glinted before in his hand before him. Of the fairy, there was nothing left but a smear of wet blood on the white marble of his balcony rail. 

“Artemis, are you hurt?” Butler asked anxiously in his low voice, gun following his eyes as he rapidly tracked the surrounding area, looking for more assailants. Artemis could not see them from their hidden space behind his filtered sunglasses’ shiny coating, but the minute movements of Butler’s head and the many years the two of them had spent together told him the story behind his actions. Artemis, for the life of him, could not even bring himself to respond in any way. He just kept staring at the empty space before him, his genius mind for once quieted as shock covered him in a thick, oppressive blanket. 

“Artemis!” Butler barked, and that was enough to get the still gears spinning again. Artemis sprung into action, turning and dashing back through the open door as fast as his unathletic, thin frame could manage. Calculations flew through his mind like lightning as he tore through the house and down the ancient stairs, Butler fast on his heels. Velocity and bone density paired grimly with calculations of height and possible trauma, grim statistics that could determine the life or death of the creature now most likely crumpled on his front lawn like a piece of stray garbage. He knew to the decimal how much force the human skeletal structure could take before breaking, the amount of blood loss the average male and female could lose and still get up to walk another day. But fairies, fairies were a dangerously unknown factor, so all Artemis had to work with was shoddy guesswork and a swift prayer to gods he had not believed in since the age of three. 

“Butler, get a medical kit!” Artemis wheezed out as he barreled down the entryway and slammed into the heavy double doors with the whole force of his body, hand already fumbling for the knob. 

“Like hell,” Butler growled, not a second behind him, and they blew through the giant wooden doors in tandem, turning the corner down the front steps and racing towards the stretch of bushes directly under Artemis’s bedroom window. It was four stories up, thought Artemis with an inward grimace. With that small of a body, this had the potential to already be at a gruesome, fatal end. 

In the darkness of the dense shrubbery, Artemis thought he saw a small shape sprawled inelegantly in the cradle of the bushy plant life. It was towards this he now stumbled, breath coming in jagged gasps and sweat pouring uncharacteristically from his forehead into his eyes. For what seemed like the millionth time he vowed to reconsider Butler’s offer of physical training, but for now he would have to work with what meager strength and endurance his body possessed naturally. Almost stumbling into the short hedge, Artemis could see more clearly now in the warm light spilling from the windows and a chillingly still arm could be seen draped limply out of its shadowy cradle. Reaching forward blindly with both arms, Artemis found them plunging beneath a small, solid mass, and fell backwards with the fairy’s still body cradled protectively against his chest. 

Rolling the both of them on to their sides, the fairy still clasped tightly in his mocking parody of an embrace, Artemis caught a glimpse of Butler as he briefly faced the sky. He looked taller from this prone, slanted angle, gun drawn levelly with the safety off as he scanned the lawn with the air of a man who wished he had night vision. By then his bodyguard had again passed out of view, and Artemis pushed himself into a kneeling position, reaching out to roll the limp body beside him gently onto its back. The fairy’s head lolled gently to the side, eyes shut while blood oozed sluggishly from a visible gash on her forehead. That’s not good, thought Artemis darkly. A head wound of that depth should be bleeding far more profusely than that. She- it must have already lost a fair amount of blood.

He took a moment to take her in more clearly. He noted the humanlike proportions of her torso, limbs, and head. He noted her five fingers to each hand the and the sallow paleness of her nutty brown cheeks. He noted the black jumpsuit, made from a material that he had never seen before, and the insignia embossed on the lapel in a language he could not even begin to understand. But that could wait. For now, it seemed that but for a few minor differences, the ears being the most notable, the fairy appeared to fall somewhere near human norms as far as structure went, albeit on a smaller scale. With this in mind, Artemis extended his right hand and placed two fingers on where the carotid artery should be located. 

“Artemis, back away from her,” he heard Butler say from above him, his tone broking no argument. He ignored it, tuning out everything else in an effort to feel for the thrum of life that should be surging through the creature’s veins. For a few breathless moments the frantic beating of his heart drowned out any other sound or sensation, but then suddenly he felt it. The faint thrum of a pulse, thready and weak but still present. Artemis breathed a sigh of relief, sitting back a bit as his whole body relaxed a fraction. Alive. She was still alive. That meant they had a chance. 

From above him Artemis heard Butler bite out a swear, then heard the click and screech of a walkie talkie. Butler must have taken one hand off his gun in order to reach it from its position at his belt. The older man began rapidly barking orders into the device, but security was the last thing on Artemis’s mind right now. Unless a fully armed and armored team of fairies descended en masse upon their position (which Artemis conceded was a distinct possibility in actuality, so Butler had a right to be concerned) he couldn’t care less about anything that wasn’t currently in front of him. Assured the creature was still living, Artemis’s main concern turned to keeping her that way.

Artemis was sure the head wound the fairy now sported hadn’t been there when they had made initial contact. Every detail of that first fateful encounter felt seared into his memory, and even if he couldn’t boast a near eidetic recall Artemis was sure he would remember that moment until last days of his life. Which left the question of the blood. Where had it all been initially coming from? Cursing himself for not being equipped with something stronger, Artemis pulled his phone from his pocket and shone the scant light over the fairy’s still form. Dim though the light might be, the glow helped him identify a wet shimmer on the fabric of the fairy’s black jumpsuit around the gash near her lower left rib cage. He touched his fingertips gently to the area, and they came back coated in red. There was the source of the wound. He would need to look at it properly, under bright light and hopefully in a cleaner environment than a patch of scrub next to a bunch of shrubbery, before he could do more. His next goal, then, would be to secure the fairy inside the house. 

“Butler, I’m going to move her- it, inside. Seeing as my request for a medical kit was too strenuous, if you would watch for assailants while I’m occupied…?” asked Artemis, sarcasm flying out instinctively as he once more wedged his arms beneath the fairy’s dead weight and lifted it to his chest. 

“I don’t like this,” said Butler gruffly as he scanned the area ceaselessly. Tension vibrated through the man’s whole body, on edge and ready to move at a moment’s notice. “I don’t even like you so close to her. This whole thing smells of a set up to me.”

“If it is a set up,” said Artemis as he began to move as swiftly as he could with his burden to the still ajar doors of the main entrance to the mansion, “I’m impressed with how far these fairies seem willing to go to pull it off.” Given how the previously pristine white of his shirt was now stained bright red, the statement carried more gravitas than Artemis could otherwise have given it. It made the whole situation seem more real. Butler only grunted in assent, fully in protective mode as they moved slowly across the lawn. 

“I sent Juliet for a medical kit,” he said abruptly, just as they were about to pass the threshold.

“Thank you, old friend,” said Artemis in a tone that was as close to an apology for his earlier behavior as anything he was ever likely to give. Butler, recognizing it for what it was, gave a small, fleeting smile before returning to guarding the rear from possible attacks. 

As soon as Artemis had stepped over the threshold, however, the previously limp body in his arms suddenly began to jerk and convulse, spasms running violently through the fairy’s small frame. Immediately he set her on the ground as gently as he could, partially so he could have a better look at her and partially because he did not have the strength to hold her while she was thrashing so violently. He placed a hand underneath her head to prevent her from injuring herself further by whacking her skull against the hard tile, bruising his knuckles in the process as the fairy repeatedly smashed them into the floor. “Butler!” he called urgently and the man rushed over and knelt by his side, trying to contain the small form on the ground.”What’s happening? Is she seizing?”

“I don’t know,” said Butler in a clipped tone, the gun never leaving his hand as he use one massive finger to lift the fairy’s eyelid back. Her hazel eyes were rolling wildly in her skull, and her body convulsed further as if trying and failing to vomit. “I’ve never seen anything quite like this before.” Making a choking noise, the fairy’s eyes opened to slits, and she dragged a hand out towards the open doorway in a desperate gesture. She then pressed it down and forward, her whole body straining as it tried to move ineffectually to the exit.

“You can’t escape,” said Artemis with a tone of cold finality. He placed a firm, restraining hand on her shoulder, effectively pinning the smaller body in place. She continued to make feeble movements towards the door, seeming to grow weaker and weaker the more she struggled. A gurgling noise came from the fairy’s throat, a wreaked sound that was pitiful to hear. In a flash of inspiration, Artemis realized the creature was trying to speak. Against his better judgment, he leaned in closer, trying to make out what the female was attempting so desperately to convey. At first he couldn’t make it out, but as he leaned in further still, despite Butler’s anxious noise, he could make out the words rasping between the fairy’s lips.

“Need…permission…” the fairy croaked, eyes roving wildly about the room in fitful starts before locking with Artemis’s in a kind of fearful desperation. While before on the balcony she had looked panicked, she looked flat out terrified now, the whites of her eyes rolling like a horse startled by the firing of a cap gun. Her breath came in harsh pants as her gaze continued to entrap Artemis, keeping him locked in her sights. “Can’t…will…die…need…permission…” And with that, the faint words turning into a rasping choke that sent Artemis into a panic. It sounded too much like a dying breath for him to derive any comfort from it. 

Artemis thought frantically, mind whirling as he tried to understand what the fairy was struggling to say. The vast tracts of information he had absorbed about fairy tales and legends passed by in a blur, and Artemis sorted frantically through multitude of it all, trying for something that might help. Permission… Permission… It was then that something unexpected caught in his mind’s eye and stuck. Not a story, not a forgotten piece of scripture on fairy kind, but a painting. One he had been planning to steal on the eve of his thirteenth birthday. While he had never laid eyes on it, he knew the description so well he could almost picture it in his mind. It was an oil-based image of a fairy leaning over the edge of a window to steal a sleeping child, taking great care to leave its feet on the outside of the sill. The Fairy Thief by Pascal Hervé. It was this image that caused a multitude of pieces of trivial information to snap together with a solid click in his mind, giving him the answer that he hoped was the one the fairy so desperately needed.

Permission.

Leaning back with an inscrutable look on his face, Artemis said in measured, heavy tones, “Fairy, I give you permission to enter this domicile.” Butler’s face had taken on a comically confused cast, but no sooner than it had than the fairy gave a rattling sigh of relief and lay still, breathing shallow but easier as the tremors shaking its body stopped. Artemis breathed his own quick sigh of relief, hoping he had not just made a mistake that he would later regret. No, he told himself firmly. The potential benefits far outstrip the risks. I am sure of it. For now, his concern was still the same as it had been; to stop the fairy from bleeding out all over his mother’s Ming dynasty antique rug. The value of that piece was ruined forever, Artemis was sure of it, but right now he couldn’t bring himself to care. A rug could be replaced, but a live fairy in his possession? Now, that was an opportunity that might never come again. 

“I’m going to bring her to the Sun Room,” said Artemis shortly, picking her up once more in a process that was starting to feel familiar. The fairy was warm against his chest, a perfect curled body in the cradle of his arms. A clumped strand of sunset hair trailed down and over the crest of her cheekbone, and Artemis watched as the fairy’s eyes rolled beneath their lids, wild roving over a plane only she could see. Without looking to see if Butler was listening, he said to the air, “Shut the door and lock down the mansion. Secure the grounds, make sure we have no more unexpected surprises planned for us tonight. Juliet will be perfectly capable of protecting me with the fairy in this weak state.” 

As if on cue, Juliet came running down the stairs, her long midnight tresses trailing loose down her back instead of in their usual long braid. She was a tall woman, shapely in the ways most men wantonly desired with a face that had a raw, almost sensual beauty. Even now clad only in a simple purple sleep top and black yoga pants the fabric clung to her alluringly, emphasizing the lean musculature of her curvy frame. Artemis had once felt the stirrings of teenage hormones rise and sniff the air in her presence at the tender age of thirteen. He had violently shut them down and had remained in his room for a week until he could be sure of perfect control over his own endocrine system. Later, as he watched her lure a man in with a flirty smile and a sway of her hips, only to then proceed to nearly brain him to death with that jade hair ornament of hers, the last embers of youthful lust had forever been silenced. Plus, he refused to be attracted to someone who had said the word “like” over one hundred fifty thousand times throughout the course of his youth. After all, he did have standards. 

Juliet had been living in the manor for years now, extra security for himself and the rest of his team as they grappled with the technological war of the century. After all, in any sort of crisis one could never have too many Butlers around. Right now she used the length of her legs to better race down the stairs, a comprehensive medical kit clutched in her arms. Butler had closed the door and locked it for good measure, and was now headed up to the main security room to check the live feed before sweeping the house on foot. He made eye contact with Artemis for a moment, his stern look telling him to not get into any sort of trouble while he was gone, before swiftly moving past him towards the stairs and his baby sister. 

“I got the med kit, bro. What the hell is going on?” asked Juliet, barely winded from her full out sprint down two wings and four flights of stairs. She skidded to a halt, feet bare, near the base of the staircase just as Butler blew past her, eating up the steps three at a time in his haste.

“Watch Artemis while I’m gone!” he called out to her as he moved swiftly out of view. Juliet’s face looked puzzled at the sudden departure, but her jaw dropped as her eyes moved back to Artemis and the still figure clasped tightly to his chest. 

“What the hell?” she asked, shocked, as Artemis moved as fast as he was able to the side of the hallway, nudging open a door with his hip and walking through to the room adjacent. The Sun Room was a tea room used for casual visitors, all white tabletops and ornate chairs. Artemis made a beeline for the center table, the largest by far, and eased his burden onto the edge of it. Seeing an ornate vase filled with flowers blocking his access to the entirety of the table, Artemis swept an arm out and casually sent it crashing to the floor. He heard Juliet’s startled swear by the open doorway, but he paid it as little mind as he did the vase. His focus was absolute right now. Laying the fairy out more properly, now that he had the room, he turned to Juliet and made a quick gesture to motion her over. The fairy’s color stood out in sharp relief against the white of the ceramic tiled mosaic of the tabletop. Juliet approached, covering the distance in a few long strides, and he snatched the kit from her arms and laid it out beside the fairy on the table. 

Leaning in, he checked her pulse once more, relieved at the confirmation of her continued will to live. Fumbling with the clasps of the kit, he finally managed to snap the clips apart completely and toss the lid open. He stared at the various pieces of medical detritus and felt a sinking sensation of total and utter panic. While Artemis held several theoretical decrees in various medical fields, he had never before worked to heal a living human being, much less an entirely new species. He had vast tracts of theoretical knowledge with zero practical application. He just stood there, staring blankly at the open medical kit, stuck in a frozen limbo he did not know how to break himself from. He, the greatest mind of this century, was paralyzed with indecision. 

He jumped as he felt a hand touch his shoulder, breaking him out of his stunned reverie, and he turned to see Juliet giving him a knowing, reassuring smile. “Start with what you know, Arty. You can do this. I know you can, and I’ll help,” she said, her voice low and soothing. And just like that, he found himself with the will to move once more, picking quickly through the various medical supplies and lining them up on the table in front of him.

“Don’t call me Arty,” he said automatically, but there was little bite in his words. He moved to the side a bit, nearer to the fairy’s head, a clear invitation for Juliet to join him at the table. She moved forward, taking the large, shiny metal scissors that Artemis handed to her without skipping a beat. As he organized the rest of his supplies, Artemis spoke to her. “There is a large wound on her left side, up near the ribcage. I need to take a look at it if she’s going to have any chance of survival. There’s no time for a doctor, and anyways, the species gap might make treatment difficult even if we could find one willing to take a payoff for silence at such short notice. I need you to cut away her jumpsuit in order to get to the wound. Quickly.” Artemis tried to keep his voice level and professional, but there was a small reedy uptick that gave him away. This was by no means going to be a comfortable situation to endure, but he must do his best to keep a clinical mindset in order to best help his new acquisition survive. 

“Gotcha,” said Juliet easily, reaching down with the scissors to the point just below the fairy’s chin, cutting the fabric swiftly down her torso with little fuss. Beneath the black fabric of the jumpsuit, the skin was dyed red with sticky blood, a blotch across the plane of her skin that stretched from her left breast down to the swell of her hip. She was clothed in a black band that protected her modesty, probably a garment worn for support Artemis surmised. Just below the edge of this fabric, a deep tear in the skin began, at its widest the width of Artemis’s pinky. It was about a foot in length, meaning it reached on her body all the way down to the hollow of her hip, traveling over the jut of her hip bone like a valley in a mountain range. The blood was still sluggishly oozing from the wound, welling up and trailing in slick rivulets down to where her skin met the table. Artemis was amazed this tiny creature was even still breathing.

Just then, as Artemis was caught staring at the hideous gash and wondering how the bloody hell he was supposed to proceed, something amazing happened. At first he thought it was a trick of the light, a blue glint of reflected shine playing across the edges of her wound. But then it happened again, and Juliet’s shocked intake of breath confirmed to him that this was no visual illusion. An electric blue spark of light had flickered along the edge of the wound, zipping down its length until it plunged beneath the skin and into territory unknown. “What on earth?” Artemis breathed, and heard a more colorful sentiment echoed from his side. 

As slow as the steady ebb and flow of the tide, Artemis and Juliet watched as the blue sparks occasionally flickered to life along the edge of the wound. Artemis raised a gentle hand in wonder, reaching out a finger as if to touch one and watched the blue light reflect onto his pale skin. After a minute it stopped completely and where before there had been simply open wound the tear seemed to be diminished, new, pink skin showing at the very edges of the gash. The bleeding, which had before been a trickle, had slowed to the equivalent of a faucet drip. Artemis breathed in, out, deeply and slowly, and felt the cogs of the world shift beneath his feet.

Magic. Or something akin to it. Whatever it was, it was real, and Artemis was far too intelligent to deny the evidence that had appeared before his very eyes.

“Artemis?” he heard Juliet ask in a shaky, reedy voice. “What the f-ing hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted reluctantly before beginning to thread a surgical needle he had ripped out of a sterile packet with a thin plastic thread. “It seems to have stopped, however, and I don’t think the creature has enough left to heal itself further. For now, nothing has changed. Go get a bottle of spring water from the fridge. We need to clean this wound out before I attempt to sew it up.” 

Wearing latex gloves now, he succeeded in his task before tearing open a small, sterile alcohol wipe. Gently he turned the fairy’s hand so her wrist was facing him, and he swiped the cloth over the delicate flesh before tossing it aside. Further up, he pressed his gloved fingers to the meaty part of her arm before removing his hand and hanging it at his side. Under his breath, he counted to sixty, watching the golden flesh for any hint of a rash. Most severe allergic reactions happen seconds after contact, and if he was going to be sterilizing the wound with alcohol wearing latex gloves he needed to know what he was planning to do wouldn’t be more harm than help. Who knew how these creatures reacted to everyday chemical solutions? In fact, who knew how they reacted to anything at all?

When nothing appeared, Artemis unscrewed the cap to the rubbing alcohol bottle. Juliet reappeared at his side, offering him an opened bottle of water. He took it and gently poured it over the wound, watching the water swirl away, leaving clean skin behind it and exposing the full atrocity of the gash to the naked eye. He heard Juliet suck in a breath from between her teeth. It was gruesome to behold. A lesser man would have lost his stomach, but Artemis Fowl the Second was no lesser man. The bloodied water washed across the edge of the table, pouring to the floor in a macabre waterfall of rusty liquid. 

He visualized everything in his mind. First, alcohol to cleanse. Then, the stitches, being careful to space them out as evenly as possible in order to avoid the wound healing unevenly. Finally, sterile gauze taped over the stitches, hopefully sealing the wound away from the infectious dangers of the open air. She would have a scar, that would be certain. Artemis was no surgeon. But, with a little luck, it just might save her life.

There was no pain medication, and Artemis wouldn’t have felt safe giving her any even if he had some, so the next part would hurt. It would hurt her terribly. But he had to harden himself to it and do what must be done. He hoped fervently that she passed out completely and would remain unaware through as much of the proceedings as possible. “Juliet,” he said quietly, picking up the bottle of rubbing alcohol and holding it aloft in hands that thankfully only trembled slightly. “I need you to hold her down. This is going to hurt.” Nodding grimly, Juliet took her shoulders and pressed them to the table. Artemis moved around her to get the best angle of attack. Bottle poised above the ruined flesh, he breathed in once. 

Twice.

Then poured.

The fairy’s eyes snapped open, and she arched her back, opened her mouth, and screamed.

Artemis, face as cold as carved stone, ears ringing with the sound of her cries, gritted his teeth, set his shoulders, and went to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always appreciated :) Thanks for the read!


	3. Chapter 3

Artemis scrubbed and scrubbed, the blood underneath his fingernails remaining stubborn half-crescents of color. The feeling of hot water rushing over his hands was a soothing balm to his frayed and tired mind, lulling him into an almost meditative state, as was the endless attempt to return his hands to their previous virgin state of cleanliness. Despite over five minutes of washing, every so often a small pink rivulet of tainted water would detach itself from his skin and swirl away down the depths of the drain. 

Everything seemed to turn over and over itself in his mind, all that he had discovered being neatly cataloged and shelved in the spaces of his massive brain. Magic was real. He had a living, breathing fairy in his house to study at his leisure. They were bound by some rule that required permission to enter a domicile. What more was there still to be discovered, lying patiently in wait for Artemis’s questing mind to uncover? He smiled sharply to himself, meeting his own eyes in the mirror and observing the predatory gleam reflected in their depths. In the eternal words of Arthur Conan Doyle, the game was afoot. All he needed now was to take his present situation and use it to his advantage. It seemed to him like everything else had simply, by pure chance, fallen right into his hands.

Giving up on the state of his fingernails as a lost cause for now, Artemis turned off the tap before patting his hands dry on a nearby towel. It had the consistency of soft cotton fluff, and he relished the feeling. Pausing for a split second to run his fingers through his hair, trying to tame the mess it had become in the excitement to a more presentable appearance, he left the bathroom and walked briskly down the hallway. There were a million things to do, and Artemis Fowl the Second did not feel like he had nearly enough time available to him to accomplish them all.

The question of the fairy’s survival was now a less precarious one, her wound having been sewn and bandaged by his inexpert hands. However inexperienced he may be, his knowledge of medical procedure had allowed for at least a mediocre job, and the bleeding had been stemmed with little fuss. The fairy was now carefully ensconced in the Master bedroom on the second floor, a room with unopenable, old-fashioned windows and a heavy lock on its sturdy wooden door. Barring any extraordinary abilities that might manifest themselves in due time, the accommodations should more than hold the creature if it awoke before expected. To be doubly sure, he had posted Juliet on the outside as a sentry, not only keep the fairy from exiting but also to bar others from entering before he had time to speak with his new… guest. After all, he had been the one to save the creature’s life. He should be the one with the first opportunity to speak with it. 

Juliet, foolish and sentimental as she was, had insisted on cleaning and bathing the creature, as well as providing her with a clean set of clothes. Artemis had scoffed but eventually agreed, and clothes suited for her size were scrounged up from various places in the house. He had instructed her firmly that in every circumstance where she was to interact with the creature, she must wear her mirrored filter sunglasses at all times. He had discovered that this ability to become invisible to the naked eye was achieved by vibrating at high enough speeds that the human brain could simply not track the movement. He was not sure if this was a technological ability or an innate one, but to be safe the glasses would stay on for the duration of the creature’s stay. It wouldn’t do to have her suddenly vanish into the nether after he had only just caught- saved her. 

Before she woke, however, he would have to inform the others. He knew there were risks to this venture, and would not bow to them, but the others deserved a fair chance to back out now if that is what they wished. So, at the crack of dawn, he had roused them all and brought them to the main computer room where Yuki had already been working diligently through the night. She was oddly nocturnal, and therefore tended to take most of the shift that went late into the night or early morning. None of the others had any complaints. What she wasn’t willing to take was divided evenly amongst the other members.

It was this room he walked into now, hearing the gentle chatter that had been drifting through the partly ajar door come abruptly to a stop as he entered. This room was in the deepest levels of the Manor, built into the foundation with a base of solid concrete. He had, at one point, had aspirations to turn it into a detaining cell of sorts, but at the beginning of the crisis it had quickly become absorbed by a rapid influx of technology. It was a middling sized room by his standards, fifteen yards by ten, lit by the harsh glow of florescent light fixtures attached to the ceiling. The floor was sealed concrete, as were the walls. The light fixtures hung glumly from a bare concrete ceiling. This was not a room made for comfort in any sense of the word, nor aesthetic taste. It was a purely functional dwelling for a sprawling mass of screens, wires, and metal boxes that took up two-thirds of the available area. At one corner of the room the stack of interlinked processors reached nearly to the ceiling. LED lights flashed, computers hummed, and cooling fans cheerily whirred away. It was a small piece of techno heaven.

Artemis, a half a year into this venture, had offered to refurnish the space and make it seem less like an atrocious concrete box. But, by that point it would have been too time-consuming to disassemble and reassemble the set-up they had created, not to mention what would happen if a cyber attack occurred while their systems were down. The results could be catastrophic. So, it stayed how it was, the space becoming more and more filled as they were forced to expand their system over the years. 

They were all seated and waiting for him there, comfortably ensconced mostly in plush office chairs pushed around one small, rickety table. Butler was the first one he saw. Being by far the biggest person in the room wherever he went he did have a tendency to draw the eye. He was seated uncomfortably on a small poof stool that had been dragged there from an adjacent room. The chairs were simply not meant to hold a man of his muscular bulk, so he did not ever deign to try. The poof creaked ominously whenever he moved, and he has positioned himself to be as far away from the technology sprawled across the room as he feasibly could be. One false swing of his elbow and most of their hard work would literally come crashing down around their ears. 

Zepino was sitting at one of the sides of the small, square table, swinging back and forth gently in his swivel chair. He was of lower middling height, shorter than Artemis by just a couple of centimeters. Artemis, however, had the advantage of continued growth while Zippy was at his full adult growth. He made up for his short stature with a boundless fount of energy, seeming as if his personality had been compacted and intensified by being stuck in so small a space. His sandy hair was short and bristly, gelled a bit in a manner Juliet had called ‘cute’ on several occasions. He was very, very skinny, with a compact chest and narrow hips. It was odd, seeing as he ate like a horse on steroids. Artemis suspected a thyroid condition, but said nothing. It wasn’t his business.

Spry was sitting across from him in a spare folding chair, hunched over the tabletop as he tinkered with a metallic something that was now spread in pieces across the surface. His face was aged and weathered, hair grey and hanging loosely around his face. His eyes were laser sharp though as he picked up a cog, scrutinizing it closely before sliding it into an empty slot in the contraption before him. He wore a plaid button down, as was his custom. 

Yuki, the last person he spotted, was off in the corner, watching the monitors and typing some command into the main interface they had set up. Her black hair was pulled back into a tight bun, her face blank and expressionless as her fingers blurred across the keypad. An empty mug sat nearby, most likely filled with some sort of caffeinated beverage. It was probably coffee, a vice she had acquired while away at American college. As far as he knew, Yuki had been up all night and must have been near dropping from exhaustion at this point. She showed no sign of it, though, except for a few minute creases of tension around the corners of her almond-shaped eyes. 

Minerva was currently not in the Manor, having gone for the week to visit her parents back in France. She was young, after all, and it was difficult for her to be away from home for such long periods of time. Artemis wondered if it wouldn’t be a good idea to send a quick message to her parents requesting she stayed where she was until this whole mess was resolved. No need for more people than necessary to be put in the crosshairs while the situation was being sorted. 

At the sound of his entrance, all four of them looked up and in his direction, faces eager and anxious all at the same time. Well, Zippy’s was eager, Spry’s was anxious, and Yuki’s was its usual blank nothing. Wordlessly, Artemis stalked over to the one remaining chair at the table and seated himself, folding his hands in front of him with his elbows rested on the table. He propped his chin up on fingers in a casual gesture he wouldn’t have dreamed of four years ago, eyes traveling over the faces beyond. Yuki turned so she could watch the monitor from the corner of her eye and face him at the same time. All was deathly quiet as they waited for him to speak. 

Clearing his throat gently, Artemis opened his mouth and began. “Last night, around three o’clock in the morning, there was a break-in of sorts on my third story balcony. A wounded fairy alighted there, clearly having just been in some sort of altercation judging from her injuries. I tried to engage her verbally, with limited success, but was not able to say much before she passed out and fell to the ground below,” he said, his cultured voice calm and assured. He needed to seem as in control of the situation as he could in order to reassure the others and increase the likelihood of them capitulating to his demands. “Butler and I rushed down, bringing her into the house and tending to her wounds with Juliet’s assistance. With any luck her life is no longer in danger, and she is now residing within the confines of the Manor. Juliet is standing guard as we speak, though the creature is still unconscious and will likely remain so for a little while longer.” He stopped, feeling the stunned silence in the air and giving them the time they needed to process his words.

After a long moment, Zippy closed the jaw that had dropped open during Artemis’s little speech. He opened it as if to say something, but nothing came out. Clearing his throat and trying again, he said weakly, “You mean to say that- that you have a live fairy under this very roof?” He sounded incredulous as if even saying the words aloud he did not quite believe them. “Is that what you’re trying to tell us?”

“That is correct,” Artemis said smoothly, his voice firm with confidence. Zippy scrutinized it for a second, trying to judge whether or not this whole thing was no more than an elaborate prank. Seeing the seriousness written all over Artemis’s face he leaned back and gave an impressed whistle. 

“Holy hell,” Zippy breathed in a wondrous voice. “A real live fairy, right in the Manor. As I live and breathe, Art, you certainly have some balls on you.”

“It’s Artemis, Zippy. Not Arty, not Art. Artemis,” he replied in exasperation, four years of this treatment turning the annoyance in his voice to something more akin to wearied resignation. 

“This is a disaster!” exclaimed Spry, throwing his unoccupied hand up in the air. Clutching the metal construction so tightly in his fist that Artemis could see the whites of his knuckles, Spry made a violent slashing gesture with his hand. “What the hell have you done, boy? You’re gonna bring the wolves right to our bloody front door!”

“Calm yourself Argus,” Artemis said firmly, causing the older man to shoot him a scathing look mixed with deep anxiety. “If they do, they will find our door well-fortified indeed. However, for the moment I don’t have many worries about an imminent invasion. Why would a lone fairy show up our doorstep? Her injuries were genuine, and no others appeared on our surveillance throughout the course of the night. If it was a trap, they had plenty of time to spring it when Butler and I were outside of the house. In addition, new information has come to light that will make them entering my home a tad more… difficult than I previously anticipated.” Artemis drew in a deep breath and shook his head, continuing. “No. While there is always the chance of a deeper plot, my guess is that she was alone. And as you know,” he said with a dangerously shark-like grin, “My guesses are usually excellent. Now, this doesn’t mean she may not be noticed to be missing and subsequently tracked here, but for the moment I don’t think the cavalry will be coming our way.”

“It is sound logic,” came Yuki’s cool voice from over by the monitors. Her voice was lower for a female, a smooth husky alto made chilly by the hardness of her tone. She was impassive as she addressed Spry, seemingly indifferent as she said, “There’s no cause for alarm. Yet.”

“Yet,” grumbled Spry as he sank into a more relaxed position in his chair, “Is not forever. We are playing a long game here, ladies and gentlemen, and I don’t see why we should screw the pooch so thoroughly when we can’t even see the goal posts yet.” The ex-convict was twitchy still, but seemed less likely now to fly into some panic-induced rage.

“I agree, Argus,” said Artemis, sitting up straighter and putting his folded hands onto his lap. Showtime. “Our best solution to this problem is to turn it over to the global authorities and let them deal with the issue. However, I would like to wait a bit before letting them know of this new acquisition.”

“And why the hell would we do that?” asked Zippy, raising an eyebrow. “The only thing that keeping this fairy around sounds like is trouble, mate. What reason could we have to keep her here?”

Artemis smiled, this time a hungry look in his eye. “Knowledge,” he said baldly, a covetous thread flowing through his voice. “Knowledge is the reason.” At the other’s expressions which ranged from cool regard to outright skepticism, Artemis raised a forestalling hand and said, “No, hear me out. While I’m sure the government would find their uses for such a specimen, what we could learn from her while she resides here could be essential for us to understand what it is we are truly facing. Think about it. An entirely new, never before seen species, all ours to investigate at our leisure. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Also,” he said, turning to face Yuki more directly for this comment, “This fairy could have the key to us cracking their servers wide open.” 

Yuki pursed her lips. As Yuki was their best offensive hacker (except for maybe Artemis, but the two had never had the opportunity or inclination to directly test their skills against each other), it had been mainly her responsibility to spearhead the efforts in trying to break through the fairy’s cyber security and into their mainframe. From there, demolishing their defenses would be child’s play. But, even after four years, the answer had been stubbornly eluding them all. Yuki had taken this as a personal affront on her intelligence, spending extra hours trying everything she could think of in the hopes of cracking through. Either the fairies were just too good, thought too differently for them to figure out how their system worked, or there was some key component that could be used to have the whole thing make more sense. For their sake, Artemis hoped the last option was the case.  
“As part of this team, I thought it prudent to run this decision by you. After all, you are residents of this house, and should be aware of any inherent risks. So, I am asking you: for the good of our cause, no, for all of humankind, can you keep this secret? Not forever, just for the meantime.”

“How long?” asked Spry suspiciously, eye narrowed at him.

“Two weeks at a maximum,” said Artemis without a pause. He met Argus’s gaze without blinking. “After that, we can alert the authorities and turn her over to the dubious hands of the government. You have my word.” The moment stretched on, thick with tension like pulled taffy, the air between them sticking uncomfortably to everyone’s skin. Finally, Spry blinked, looking down and away. 

“Fine. Two weeks and no more,” he said roughly, pushing his chair back violently and rising to his feet. He swept all of the metals bits roughly into a pouch that hung from his hip. “But I hope for all our sakes that this doesn’t turn into trouble.” And with that, he stalked from the room, leaving the door ajar behind him. 

“Whew! That was dramatic,” commented Zippy, rising to his feet and stretching his arms behind his head. Looking at Artemis, he said easily, “I’m in Arty, but you better keep a weather eye for trouble. Either from these fey folk or from Spry. He isn’t too happy with the whole situation, being forced to be here and all. Makes him a tad grumpy.” He laughed, clasping Artemis roughly on the back before turning to Yuki and saying, “How about you darlin’? Gonna head for the hills now that the fun’s just beginning?”

“I have no intention of leaving,” said Yuki blandly as she rose elegantly from her seat and brushed down the front of her grey pencil skirt. “I agree with Mr. Fowl in his assessment of the fairy’s potential use. I would like to see her for myself sometime in the near future, if at all possible,” she said in Artemis’s direction. 

“Of course,” said Artemis with a smooth nod. “I will let you know when she wakes. Her condition is still delicate, however, so it may be a few days before visiting is possible.” He lied casually, so smooth that it would have taken a professional to notice. He searched Yuki for signs that she’d detected his ruse, but if she did nothing in her face gave her away. She was, as usual, a perfect marble statue.

“Understood,” she said with a brisk nod, making for the door and ignoring Zippy completely. “I look forward to the experience. Good day, gentlemen.” And with that, she too disappeared from sight. 

“God, she is lovely,” said Zippy in a fervent tone of voice. Then turning and plopping himself in the recently vacated chair, he said cheerfully, “Well, it’s my turn to keep an eye out. I’ll let you know if something devastating comes up.”

“Thank you, Zepino,” said Artemis serenely, rising from his seated position with as much grace as his overly-lanky body could muster. Damn growth spurts. “I wish you luck with your shift.”

“Sure thing, boss!” Zippy called without looking, already entranced with the information flowing like water across the many screens. Artemis weaved through the mess of computers and wires with the ease of long practice, exiting the room with Butler close on his heels. The corridor outside was empty. Yuki and Argus must have already retired to elsewhere in the house. 

Artemis smiled to himself, triumphant. They’d taken the bait, all of them, as he’d known they would. Now, he had time, time he desperately needed in order to carry out his plan.  
The two men walked in silence, up the stairs and through the rest of the house. The grandness of their surroundings was summarily ignored, and neither of them ventured to speak before they were in the more secure location of Artemis’s room. With so many strangers having the run of the house they never knew who might be listening. Finally, they reached the somewhat mangled door of Artemis’s bedroom. Laboriously, Butler managed to close it behind him after they’d passed through, entering a cocoon of silence in the more fortified quarters. Alone now, both relaxed a fraction and Artemis ran a hand through his slightly messy hair. It had been a taxing twenty-four hours.

“Well old friend, what do you think?” he asked with a sigh, seating himself on the edge of his unkempt bed. Butler ‘hmmed’ softly, face still tense but thoughtful.

“I don’t like it on principle, simply because this puts you in additional danger,” said Butler finally after he’d had a moment to gather his thoughts. “This is a risky plan, Artemis. Who knows what this fairy is capable of, even in this wounded state? Plus, where one comes, others will follow. We learned that well in the military.” Butler stopped, meeting Artemis’s gaze with an intense look. “We may not have two weeks before they realize she’s gone and come looking for her. That suit looked military to me, and the military doesn’t take too kindly when you snatch one of their own. They’ve been known to raise hell over it, in fact,” Butler said with a rueful twist of his lips. 

“Then I will need to work as quickly as I can,” said Artemis darkly as he removed his shoes and socks, dropping them to the floor with a muffled thump. “It is important to make the most of the time I can get. I should rest while the fairy is still unconscious. Please wake me at the first sign of consciousness, Butler.”

“What’s up with you?” asked Butler abruptly, an uncharacteristically blunt question for him to ask of his employer. He was staring intently at Artemis, who met his gaze squarely with a guarded expression. “Normally you don’t make gambits this risky. Unless…” Butler had a flash of dreadful realization go through him. “It’s not going well, is it?” he asked with a growing sense of horror as Artemis tensed and looked towards the wall. Bingo. “The coding or what have you. I’m no shakes at computers, not the way you are, but I recognize a losing fight when I see one. They’re gaining on us, aren’t they?” 

Artemis was silent for a long minute, staring blankly at the wall with a tense expression on his face. Then, he said in a quiet, dark voice, “Yes.” Butler watched him slump down and curl a fraction inwards, a defeated pose Butler almost never saw Artemis take on. Artemis’s hands curled into fists, balled tightly near his knees. “Lately, something had changed. I don’t know what it is, but the person seems to have gotten…smarter, for a lack of a better word. More efficient. More complex. Before, we were just barely holding our ground. But now…” Artemis broke off, teeth grinding as he looked down and to the side. His fringe draped over his eyes, cutting them off from Butler’s line of sight. “It won’t take long for the others to realize,” he said in a quiet voice, filled with some rabid mix of desperation and determination. “By my calculations, at this rate we don’t have long. Maybe a couple months. Maybe even as little as a couple of weeks.”

Such bleak statistics from a boy who was normally so arrogantly confident send ice rushing through Butler’s veins. “Surely, if you had more people, more resources-?” he began, but Artemis cut him off. 

“It might help, but only in the short-term,” said Artemis, shaking his head. “Everyone in this house is the best in the world at what they do. We were what they were relying on. If we can’t do it, then no one else stands a chance.”

There was silence in the room as the two of them considered this grim possibility. Finally, Butler asked hesitantly, “What happens when they get control?”

“Maybe nothing,” said Artemis wearily, rubbing the bridge of his nose to try and relieve some of the tension in his aching head. “Maybe everything. Once they’ve broken through, all of the world’s secrets will be theirs to do with as they will. Missile codes, launch sequences, all of it will be theirs. They could wipe us all off the face of the planet with the push of a button. I don’t know enough about them to be able to extrapolate how likely this might be, but one thing’s for sure: that much power in one person’s hands is never a good thing.” 

Coming from Artemis, with his constant desire for more power, this was quite a statement. The gravity of the situation hit Butler then like the force of a speeding train. It was almost over. Everything they had, life as they knew it, could be erased by an inhuman finger pushing a planetary reset button. Who knows? Maybe they would be glad to be rid of the human race, the interlopers who had so blatantly challenged their claim for the planet. All of this, in the span of a couple of months. It had been a gold fall for the fairy to drop in on them at this particular moment, suspiciously so, but Butler now saw it was a chance they had no choice but to seize tightly with both hands. 

“We’d better not let them win then,” said Butler gravely. Artemis sighed, lying back on the bed and closing his weary eyes.

“I won’t,” he said, the weight of all the genius’s determination echoing behind his words. Then in moments Artemis was asleep, a small frown still gracing his features even in unconsciousness. Butler took a moment to look at his charge, grown up now in so many ways, before exiting the room as silently as he was able. He had a suspicion they would all need their rest for the hard days ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are enjoying so far! The next chapter will be from Holly's perspective. Please let me know what you think, and kudos are always nice to get. :)


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Everything went wrong.

_Holly sighed, running a hand through the hair she hadn't had the spare moment to cut in far too long. She hadn't had a moment for much of anything in the last four years. Everything personal had fallen by the wayside for those on the force during this time of crisis, especially for members of the Black Ops team. Vinyaya was a slave driver, but to be honest with herself Holly liked that about her. Holly Short had never met a women more dedicated to justice in her whole life, and Vinyaya was someone who she'd gladly followed to the ends of the Earth and beyond. As far as men went, the only person who could come even close was Julius Root, the man who had looked at her, the first female LEPrecon officer to ever make it past the Academy with such high marks, and had seen something in her with the potential to shine. He had taken her in, polished her with grit, sweat, tears, and bruises, before sending her on to Vinyaya with the highest recommendations he could possibly give and a boot in the ass. He hadn't been gentle or kind when he'd whipped her into shape, but he had believed in her and that, more than anything, had earned him her respect from now until the day she died._

_Tonight she flew, the green of the Irish mainland darkened to shades of deepest emerald in the stillness of the night. The skies were clear, the near-fullness of the moon sending a tingling sensation running down the length of her spine. It was not a comfortable feeling, but nor did it hurt. It was the sensation of placing your hand near an open current and seeing all of the little hairs there stand up. It was energy. More than that, it was potential. From behind her visor, feeling the wind whip sharply over and down her covered skin, Holly allowed herself the luxury of a smile. It had been so long since she'd been on the surface, years upon years, and she'd missed it dreadfully. All fairies were so close to the Earth that being able to step foot on the surface, no matter how dire the circumstances, was nothing short of ecstatic. Throwing caution to the wind Holly lowered her visor against all regulations, letting the cold air briskly wind-chap her face and the smells of the outside world fill her nostrils. In the light of the near-full moon, riding the air high above the serene world below, Holly felt momentarily at peace._

_But the world below was far from peaceful. She knew that fact all too well._

_After the accidental discovery of the fairy race and the subsequent rejection by the humans United Nations, the fairy race was left in a roiling mass of panic. After all, Mud Men were notoriously violent. Who knew what they would do now that they were aware of their subterranean neighbors? Every single person in law enforcement was on the highest alert, working around the clock to monitor the situation above and calm the panicking populous. Weapons were frantically stockpiled, entrances hastily sealed, and the fairy race settled down for the worst to occur._

_After a week, when nothing showed immediate signs of blowing into a million pieces, the fairies began cautiously extending tendrils outwards via the human's internet, hoping to gather information about what the humans were planning to do. To their shock, their initial probes were rebuffed. Rebuffed! Her friend Foaly had almost keeled over in shock when the news reached his furry ears. Human were not supposed to be advanced enough to even think about doing such a thing. So Foaly, a wrathful storm of techno-rage, attacked back with the full scale of his intellect. Within days it had turned into a violent cyber-struggle, Foaly versus the humans, in an effort to prevent the other from accessing their systems and asserting control. With the technological advances the fairy race had at their fingertips, the humans could destroy their whole species in a matter of days. There was no way they could allow that to happen._

_However, in the past year things had begun to become more serious. Different human governments were sending trained teams of assailants to locations where fairy activity was rumored to be taking place. Once they found a spot the humans would then proceed to try and force their way past the fairy guards in an effort to get below. There were four main entry points the humans had knowledge of and two of them were located in the green shires of Ireland. It was here Holly had been stationed for the last year, fighting the human forces in an all-out war for control of the access ports. And she was oh so tired of it._

_This year had hardened her. Before this, she had never had to kill. She wouldn't even have been able to conceive the notion, pacifism being rooted so deep in the core of her being. But not anymore. The battle for the Stonehenge shuttle port had been fierce due to it being one of the first to be discovered. Both sides had taken casualties, and the sound of gunfire often woke her from her shallow rest in a cramped cot barely a quarter mile below the surface of the earth. Everything was grimy and broken, coated with a layer of dirt and blaster-stains where the battle raged the fiercest. Trench wars were a waiting game, she knew that now, but it still did nothing to wash the itch from under her skin, the urge to do something, anything._

_So when the chance at a routine troll-scoop came up, she had leapt at it with both hands outstretched. Anything was better than sitting underground, tense and hyper-alert for the next burst of weapon fire._

_Vinyaya had briefed her on the situation. An escaped juvenile troll that had somehow managed to make its way to the surface and was doing its damdest to destroy everything in sight. Now more than ever it was of vital importance that the human not have anything more of the fairy world to analyze to their advantage, especially something as dangerous and deadly as a troll. So, she had been dispatched with the order to relocate if possible. If not… Well. Vinyaya had not elucidated further on the matter, but the weapon she had handed her was bulkier than any she had ever seen. It looked lethal, and felt far too heavy in her hands. The Commander had given her a small, sad smile before sending her on her way to one of the small, still unnoticed fairy bases. She had snuck her way out from there under the cover of night, spread her mechanical wings and taken to the skies._

Everything always went wrong.

Wrong. Wrong.

Wrong.

And now, she was paying the price

* * *

The fairy awoke to the sound of birdsong and the feeling of warmth on her face. Slowly, laboriously, Holly cracked opened her eyes.

The first thing that hit her was the sun. It fell warm across her cheek, shining directly into her eyes and reducing everything to a hazy nimbus of white. The brightness of it sent a lance of pain through her skull, making the insides of her head throb, so she immediately shut her eyelids against the offensive glare.

The second thing that hit her was the smell. It was musty and old, with notes of dust and warmth that suggested this was a lived-in space. But everything was…wrong. Beneath the smell of old, dead wood was a nauseous odor, a combination of sharp chemicals and something that smelled a bit like an animal. It was as if someone was drawing sandpaper over the inside of her nostrils, offending her aching head even further. Her stomach roiled, and for a shaky moment Holly was certain she was going to be sick. Trying to breathe shallowly through her mouth, she shifted slightly and felt a soft fabric slide underneath her fingers and against her cheek. It was filled with that loathsome smell, and all Holly could do was try her best to sit up in order to escape its insidious grasp.

Eyes shut, trying desperately to force her uncooperative body to rise, she heard the clink of metal and felt something tug abruptly at her wrist. It was at this moment that her brain, addled from the trauma done to her skull, finally began to click on. Hazy memories rose to the surface, piled with the evidence of her senses she could not deny.

When Holly Short finally opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was the manacle clamped firmly around her left wrist, glinting so innocently in the light of the afternoon sun.

Caught. She was caught, a prisoner to the worst kind of people: Mud Men. Holly Short was the first fairy to ever be captured alive in the entirety of this horrible ordeal. Not since the days of old had a Mud Man successfully caught a member of the Fay folk. But something told her that mere riches would not be what these men would seek. They had more valuable information to mine from her. Horror swelled inside her breast, rising like a tide to lodge in her throat and stop her heart. She was trapped, trapped in this horrid place, and there was nothing to stop the Mud Men from using whatever means they deemed necessary to pry the information they wanted from her resisting lips.

To put it simply, Holly panicked. Immediately she sat up, curling her right hand around her opposite wrist and tugging in the hopes of breaking the cuff free from its anchor. A cold sweat prickled out over her forehead, something in the vicinity of her side throbbing with such horrendous pain that the edges of her vision went grey. Shaking, she collapsed back down with a groan. Her side. She'd forgotten. Everything had been so hectic...

_The troll's snorted exhale had sent fog swirling around its flared nostrils in the chill of the night air. Some farmer was going to be very upset come morning, thought Holly as she observed the torn and destroyed carrots and potatoes. Fortunately, there were no humans in immediate ear shot as the field was expansive, but they must be nearby and therefore in mortal peril if this troll got free. She didn't know why she even bothered to care. There have been some lingering part of her person that still clung to HER old abhorrence to violence. She would need to do this quickly. Unholstering her weapon, it powered to life under her expectant fingertips as the troll glared balefully upwards. She saw its claws curl deep into the soft loam of the earth, the light of the moon glinting off its beady red eyes. In the next moment, the troll let out a ferocious bellow as it threw itself up into the air towards her, dreadlocks blown back to fully reveal its deadly fangs and tusks._

_Holly had never gone toe to toe with a live troll before. She, like everyone else in the Academy, had done simulated fights against a mock troll. However, that was a team mission with the priority being retrieval and relocation. One fairy was not meant to go up against something this deadly, at least not without some form of back up. But resources were spread so thin nowadays that Holly had been the only person with the right level of combat training around who wasn't on duty or asleep in their bunks. It was most likely this lack of real life experience with a troll's brand of lethal speed that had caused her to be hovering a shade too low to the ground. She didn't have enough time to pull up and out of the way before the troll's massive hand swatted her out of the air and onto the soil below with an audible thud. The gun twirled away from her slackened grip and vanished into the shadowy night._

_Stunned and panicking, Holly ignored the way her head was throbbing as she rolled clumsily out of the way, a move made cumbersome by her bulky mechanical wings. Just in time, too, as a closed fist slammed down where her body had been just moment before. The troll roared in anger at its miss, the retractable claws extending to their full length as it prepared to strike again. A blue spark zipped across Holly's forehead, and her mind sharpened and cleared. To Holly, massive amounts of adrenaline were pumping through her veins, causing time to seem to slow to a crystal-clear crawl. Every bead of venom oozing from the troll's tusks, every swing of its shaggy fur, every huff of breath seemed to Holly to be the most sharp, realistic thing she had ever witnessed. She should have dodged. She knew that now. But, in her haste to get control of the situation, Holly made the near-fatal mistake of trying to activate her wings. Little did she know that as she had impacted the ground, a loose bit of wiring in the old model had jiggled out of place, turning the life-saving technology on her back into nothing more than a useless metal deadweight._

_The mistake very nearly cost Holly her life._

_Instead of shooting up into the sky as she had intended, Holly merely stood there, the ripcord for the wing's motor in hand as the troll's deadly claws raked brutally across her front. Six inches back and she would have been fine. Two feet forward and she would have been cleaved in two. However, fortune or misfortune made it so only the very tip of the troll's middle claw made contact; shredding the advanced fabric like tissue paper and splitting open the tender flesh beneath. The wind knocked out of her, Holly was spun to the side by the force of the strike, landing a few feet back on her shoulder with her arms curled around her vulnerable stomach. The pain was overwhelming for a moment before it began to fade into a dream-like, calm blur. The troll's subduing venom was now coursing rough-shod through her veins. Blue sparks erupted over her body, and Holly could feel her magic both trying to heal her front and combat the effects of the troll's venom. Holly knew she didn't have long before she would succumb to one and meet her end at the hands of this beast. Creative thinking was in order._

_One more hit like the last one and Holly would be a gonner for sure. She needed some way to be able to at least deflect those deadly claws. The hardest substance aside from her wings that she had on her person was her helmet, and with fumbling fingers she unstrapped it and quickly pulled it over her head. The troll seemed puzzled that this prey was still moving, most creatures having succumbed to the intoxicating effects of the venom in the past. This little female was still moving. Holly slung her arm through the open helmet visor, grabbing the ridge on the inside meant to store extra tech. Lifting her makeshift shield, Holly warily eyed the troll, gaze darting away in brief sweeps as she searched the ground for a trace of her gun. Intellectually, she knew her chances of holding off a strike from a full-grown troll with nothing but the strength of her body and a helmet was ludicrous. However, Holly had officially reached the territory of 'desperate'. The time for peaceful solutions was officially over._

_Recovering from its brief confusion, the troll decided the female-meat needed a couple more blows to tenderize it into submission. Roaring, it charged, swinging forward on its knuckles for increased speed. Holly waited until the last possible second, heart beating a mad rhythm against the inside of her ribs, before rolling swiftly out of the way, using her size to her advantage. The troll skidded to a halt, dirt flying as it desperately tried to turn. Holly, face in the dirt, looked up to see, praise the gods above, her gun resting peacefully on the ground right in front of her nose. From behind her she hear a roar and the sounds of another charge. Scrambling, she got to her knees and reached her left hand for the weapon, praying that she had a shot._

_Everything that happened in the next few seconds seemed like nothing but a blur. Hot breath was on her face, her arms jerking up reflexively, then the troll's jaw had closed around it, so close to her face that one of its teeth left a gash on her forehead. Frantically releasing the helmet like a hot potato, the jerk of her arm as the troll yanked its head back, crushing the helmet between its massive teeth and turning its gums to bloody pulp in the process. The troll's scream of pain. Her desperately raising her left arm and taking aim, knowing it wasn't her dominant hand, knowing she was the best shot in the academy, and praying whatever this gun was it was powerful to stop a troll dead in its tracks._

_Pulling the trigger._

_Light. Harsh noise. A sound like the cracking of rocks in a hot fire. Holly opened her eyes. Where the troll had just stood, nothing but a shallow smoking crater remained. Relief coursed through her, making her knees weak and her shoulders slump. Alive. She was alive._

_The gun in her hand, once cool, felt uncomfortably hot against the flesh of her palm. With a yelp she dropped it, where it was now smoking on the ground and making a concerning high-pitched whine. Having a lifetime of experience with Foaly's failed experiments and knowing that sound didn't mean anything good, Holly launched to her feet and started sprinting away from the smoking gun. Her eyes narrowed with concentration and her arms pumping, she braced herself. Right on time, the gun exploded in a flash of fire and melted plastic. The blast was strong enough to knock her over, and she fell on her arm with a scream of pain._

Things got a bit hazier after that, the venom working its insidious way through her system. She had heard the sound of dogs off in the distance and known she had to get out of there. Somehow, she didn't know how, she'd managed to get her wings to work again. Flying blind, lost without the nav system in her helmet, she'd just flown in the direction she'd hoped lead back to base. Time had seemed to warp oddly. She wasn't sure how long she had been in the air before a lack of fuel sent her spiraling downwards, down towards a shining bright house in the middle of nowhere. As for the rest… she remembered it as if through a dark pool of water. Everything seemed unclear.

"Hey! You, fairy. What do you think you're doing? You're going to pull your stitches out doing that!"

The voice seemed to have a mixture of concern and annoyance. Holly groaned, shifting her head to the side and prying her eyes open. At first, all she could make out was a dark blur lit from behind by the light of the sun. Then, she blinked a couple times, and Holly could make out the details. It was a young woman of European-Asian descent, towering above her prone form with her hands planted squarely on her hips. She was squarely build, her shoulders broad and her hips curved. The woman looked to be in peak physical fitness, as shown by the trimness of her waist and the muscles exposed by her red tank top. Perhaps she was some sort of soldier. Her ebony hair was tightly braided into one long strand, and a jade ring affixed tightly to the end. She wore tight yoga pants and was currently barefoot, her toes making indents on the plush carpet. It was a human. A Mud Woman. Holly's eyes slid vacantly away. She refused to acknowledge her captors. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

"Hellooooo? Anyone in there?" asked the woman, bending over and waving a hand a few inches in front of Holly's nose. Holly did her utmost to pretend that she saw nothing. Seeing as she was getting no response, the woman sighed and shook her head, rising to her full height and walking out of Holly's immediate line of sight. "Well, at least you're awake. That's something. We weren't sure you were going to make it through the night." There was the sound of retreating footsteps, and the woman's voice spoke out to her. "I'm sure Artemis wants to know you're up. You should thank him for saving your life." A door creaked open from behind her, and Holly heard the woman leave the room, shutting the barricade gently behind her. Holly did nothing but close her eyes once more. She was sure that once this 'Artemis' arrived, the thin veneer of civility would be stripped away, leaving their true, crueler intent to rise to the surface. The moment would arrive. All she could do was wait.

In the silence of this acid smelling room, Holly was grateful for the company of the birdsong as she waited for the end to come.

* * *

The end came fifty minutes later.

Holly had remained prone, curled up in on herself in the cruel comfort of the bed, the manacle on her wrist the comfortable temperature of her own skin. She had been spending the past fifty minutes trying to come to some sort of inner peace, to resign herself to the fate that she knew lay before her. But Holly, for all of her flaws, had never been a quitter. Life was just too precious to simply roll over and give up without a fight. The sun lay warm and dappled along the skin of her clothed back as she pushed the blanket off herself in one laborious shove, her body squirming awkwardly as she was still hampered by her wounds. Even the smallest movement sent a flare of blazing pain coursing through her torn and battered side, but Holly, ever the hardened officer, simply grit her teeth and narrowed her eyes. When you looked at it, pain was just one more obstacle the world could throw at you, and Holly Short did not take kindly to obstacles.

Holly didn't know what she was going to do, how she was going to remove her shackle, or even what she hoped to achieve by getting up and moving. All she knew is that she could feel her chance for freedom slowly running through her fingers like golden grains of sand. Each second was precious. She was in a Mud Man's house now, and if this Artemis was the true master of this place, then his commands would bind her more effectively than chains. The rules of her magic were absolute: once given permission to enter a human's home, the master of the house only had to meet her eyes and give a command and she must obey. Holly was pretty sure the Mud Men didn't know about this yet, but if she was stuck in a prolonged conversation with one it wouldn't take long for even a moron to realize something unusual was going on.

It was at this moment, as Holly had finally managed to slide off the tall edge of the bed and was currently ghost pale with pain, that Artemis opened the door and confidently stepped into the room.

Leaning against the side of the bed closest to the door, her back pressed against the plush mattress as sweat trickled down her face and her hair hung lank over her eyes, Holly looked up for one second to take in her captor before remembering herself and training her eyes on the floor. He was tall for a Mud Man, though in all honesty they all looked tall to Holly from her three foot vantage. In all honesty, he was only just old enough to be called a man instead of a boy. Almost skeletally thin, his clothes looked well-tailored to fit his lanky frame, the crisp white of the shirt almost matching the tone of his snowy skin. He was dressed formally, his button down and charcoal slacks making him look as if he may have just stepped out of a business meeting or a funeral. Swept back from his high brow, the man's raven hair was a tad wild, almost as if he had just woken from sleep and had only the briefest of moments to comb it back into a semblance of order.

To Holly, though, these were just superficial details. What she really looked at was the way his pale pink lips were pressed together in a tight line, the look of the purple crescents hanging bruise-like beneath the brush of his lower eyelashes. Holly saw the stiff posture of his back and shoulders, holding himself with an authority that made him look seconds away from fracturing, and the hardness in his cold blue eyes. With one look, Holly knew everything. This was the man in charge. This was the filthy Mud scum who had captured her, jailed her away from her people. And he seemed as harsh and unyielding as the stone of the island deep beneath her feet.

There was a beat of silence where no one moved. The man, hand still lingering on the knob of the door, watched the fairy's defiant form, refusing to back down even though her limbs were trembling from exhaustion and her small hand were white-knuckled as she gripped the bed tight. Holly held her ground, weak and shaking but still standing, still on her feet, wishing she could squarely meet her captor's eyes and let every ounce of hatred on her face show. All she could do was glare at the patterns on the plush carpet and feel angry at the world for the bad hand it had dealt her.

"What in god's name are you doing?" asked the man in a crisp, cultured tone, every syllable quivering with leashed fury. The preciseness of it, the way every word was cut clean and measured turned the soft Irish of his cadence to something that closer resembled neatly broken glass.

Holly sucked in a breath, causing fire to race down her side, before spitting out the words, "Standing. Leaving." Holly could feel her words turn into bullshit the instant they left her lips, but this was her last chance. If she didn't look two steps from death she might have had a shot at bluffing the Mud Man into letting her go. As it was, she felt as intimidating as a wet paper lunch sack, but she was desperate. Panic raced through her veins, and Holly could feel the posh walls leaning closer, blocking her in. What a stupid looking place to die.

"Not likely," came the scathing reply, and the man moved swiftly towards her. Suddenly, he was looming over her, deep in her personal space, and Holly couldn't help but flinch at the threat of it. "You look ready to collapse. If you have ruined any of the hard work I put in to keep you alive I shall be deeply annoyed." His tone was icy and clinical, anger still dripping from every syllable. It made all of the hairs on the back of Holly's neck stand up.

"Get away from me," Holly snarled, shoulders bunching defensively, but it was hard to seem threatening when your legs refused to stop shaking. The vibrations made the links of the chain clink merrily together like a macabre sort of wind chime. It wasn't because she was scared, Holly told herself firmly. Not even a little. It was just from the blood loss. Even so, Holly wished she could let go of the bed to get her hands in between him and her. Sadly, if she did the lack of support could result in her painfully meeting the ground in an unpleasant fashion.

"Don't be ridiculous," said the man from above her. She darted a quick, defiant look at his face and saw, to her surprise, that a hint of chagrin and remorse had broken through the rigor of his features. Had he not meant to scare her? Not that she was scared, amended Holly hastily. It was all a theoretical anyways. "I'm not going to hurt you, silly creature," he said in annoyance, seeming exasperated at the very notion. "Now get back on the bed before you collapse and hurt yourself further."

"And what if I refuse?" asked Holly through gritted teeth, and she heard a faint sigh from above before strong arms were suddenly at her back and knees, scooping her up gently and cradling her body to his slight, bony chest. Startled, she could only hang there, limp and unwittingly, as she was carefully lifted and deposited onto the rumpled bed. All the while Holly felt as if her heart was a hummingbird trapped in her chest and her breath had turned solid in her throat. He was dangerous, Holly told herself fiercely. This was the equivalent of being lifted and carried by a hungry tiger. No doubt a hungry tiger had gently grasped an unwitting monkey gently in its jaw many a time. Right before his teeth crunched clean through the ignorant monkey's spine.

The man, perhaps the "Artemis" the female had mentioned earlier, let out a gasp of exertion before withdrawing his arms, standing back up straight and looking at her sternly. "That," said the man, sounding only a little out of breath, "Is what will happen." He glared at her fiercely, the once clean lines of his shirt now even more rumpled. "Don't mistake my intention, fairy," he said in a low voice, a hint of darkness entering his tone. "This is no altruistic act of kindness. You owe me your life, and I intend for you to repay that debt in full by the time you end your stay."

"You will get nothing from me," said Holly in a harsh, low whisper that grated her throat. " _I_ don't play nice with _Mud Men_." Everything negative emotion that had previously been undefined coalesced into a firm ball of hatred for the rude male before her. Stripped of her freedom, her magic, and her ability to move, all Holly had left was her iron will. She hated the Mud Men for what they had made of her people. She hated _this_ Mud Man for all he had taken from her and all he might do in the future. That hate had to be enough, thought Holly bitterly, to keep her going.

It was all she had left.

The man smiled unpleasantly at her, cruel and oily with the pleasure of a challenge curling pleasantly through his veins. "I am Artemis Fowl the Second, _fairy_ ," he said with cold pleasure, and the man leaned forward until he loomed over her prone body, menace and smug intent radiating like mist from dry ice. Holly looked into his dark eyes, like the depths of the frozen ocean, and thought she could see the end of everything she had ever known reflected there. "And I always get what I want."

And Holly, her body pushed to the brink, felt her eyes flutter shut as she slid down into the black.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a slightly edited version of a story I meant to write but never did. But now I will. Wheee, I'm just sooooooo changeable! Let me know what you think, feedback is always appreciated. I apologize for any grammatical/spelling error I may have made. It is also posted in my fanfiction.net account, and I will try my best to do tandem updates.


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